Lost and Found
by Fearsome Foursome
Summary: At the end of a very bad day, Cal helps Gillian grieve what she lost while they find a way to move forward.


Cal muttered low curses as he dug through the piles on his desk, yet again, for the one piece of paper that would complete their final report. He hated, HATED the administrative side of the business. Gillian always took care of dotting the i's and crossing the t's. Put him out in the field – that's where he was happy. He hated being chained to his desk all day shuffling paper, but asking Gillian to finish his report right now would be like poking the tiger. Sometimes he loved nothing more than poking the tiger, but one look at her expression this morning and he realized today was not the day to ask for a favor. He thought about barging in and demanding to know what was wrong, but he had tried it yesterday, twice, to no avail. Her entire being screamed "Back off!" He knew he had to wait her out, but watching her suffer alone had been hell. He felt so helpless.

He was still digging for that last page of notes. He threw open his desk drawer to search there, but instead he came upon an old photo. Gillian had given it to him; it was a picture of the two of them, but Cal wasn't happy either in the picture or looking at it. The picture was taken at Gillian's wedding. Cal looked uncomfortable in his best suit while Gillian was beaming in her bridal gown. She looked radiant. She always looked radiant.

Cal spun in his chair as he held the photo. It was hard to look at, but he couldn't look away either. He didn't often showcase his emotions, but this picture caught him in all his glory. It wasn't easy to look at a picture of himself watching the woman he loved marry someone else.

How long had he been in love with Gillian? Well, if he was being honest. He chuckled sardonically. How ironic that a man who worked so hard to become a human lie detector needed to remind himself to be honest. God, he'd been in love with Gillian almost since the day he met her – her smile, her laugh, her intelligence, her kindness, her optimism, her serenity . . . what was there not to love? He knew when he met her that she was much too good for him. With his past, his flaws – the best he could hope for was friendship. Okay, considering he had a wife and daughter at the time, friendship was all he could hope for, but even if things had been different he knew she was out of his league. He needed contact with her, though, a reminder that there were some things in the world that were good and pure and right.

He was prepared to work hard to gain her trust, only to discover their friendship was almost effortless. He felt safe with her. Even when his darker impulses threatened to overtake him, he never feared her judgment or condemnation. She would argue with him – some of their arguments took on legendary status – but her goal was to coax him into making the right decision. Her concern was for his happiness. _Truth or happiness, never both._ He told her that; yet, she shared his need for truth and still seemed to find happiness as well. At least some of the time. And her happiness was infectious. Her presence enriched his life, and he had to watch her marry the wrong man while he was married to the wrong woman. Now she was paying the price for it. And he couldn't help. She wouldn't let him.

When did friendship become not enough for him? He had respected the line Gillian and he had created for each other, had figured out a way to live within those boundaries for years. Sure, he dipped an exploratory toe across it occasionally, but for all intents and purposes he had been grateful for the relationship they had. Until recently. Suddenly being her confidante, and having her be his, wasn't enough. Suddenly the friendship he wanted so badly in the beginning was unsatisfactory. He could feel it, feel himself pull away from her lest he storm across the line she drew and say something that would ruin their friendship forever. He knew he was doing it. Even worse, she knew he was doing it. He was hurting her, and he couldn't stop. He put the photo away and sighed, staring into space as he wondered how to proceed.

"Penny for your thoughts."

He spun around in his chair. "They aren't worth that much, love."

Zoe came into his office. "Let me be the judge of that."

"Just doing paperwork. Never my favorite part of the job."

"You were staring a hole through the wall." She glanced as if she could tell what he was thinking just from where he was looking. Actually, she could. At least she could tell _who_ he was thinking about. "If I were to follow your stare through the walls, I have a feeling I know whose office I would end up in."

"Leave it alone, Zoe. Everything okay with Emily?"

"Oh, sure. I thought I would pick her up here. Is she around?"

Cal's eyes narrowed. "No. You know she is having dinner with Rick tonight. He's dropping her off at your house in about an hour." He checked his watch. "Fifty four minutes to be precise, and he dammed well better make curfew. Why are you really here, Zoe?"

She made herself comfortable in one of his office chairs, kicking her legs over an arm rest. "What, I can't stop by and chat with my favorite ex-husband?" She chuckled when his eyebrows rose. "What's wrong with Gillian that has you laser-beaming your way into her office?"

"Leave her be, love. She's having a bad couple of days."

"I knew that from the moment I walked in."

"What do you mean?"

"Cal, your name might be on the door, but she's the heart and soul of this place. As soon as I saw all the anxious expressions on your employees' faces I knew something was up with Little Susie Sunshine. What gives?"

Cal's mood darkened. "Retract those claws, Zoe. Cattiness doesn't suit you. I'm not going to gossip about her with you."

"Hey, the woman you have been comparing me to all these years is finally coming up a little short, and I'm not allowed to enjoy it even the slightest bit?"

"I never compared you to Gillian."

"The hell you didn't!"

"One of the benefits of being divorced from you, love, is that I no longer have to have this particular conversation. The topic of Gillian is off-limits. Unless you have something else you want to discuss, I'm busy."

Zoe shrugged. "That's not a surprise. From the moment you met her your relationship with Gillian was non-negotiable. Do you know how that made me feel?"

"You had plenty of male friends, Zoe. I never understood why you were so rude and unyielding toward Gillian. She was nothing but kind to you."

"You really don't get it, do you? Gillian is more than a 'female friend' to you. The two of you have a bond, a shorthand, that no one can match. How you know what the other is thinking, how you talk to each other – it's beyond finishing each other's sentences. The two of you have entire conversations with a look. You are more yourself with her than with anyone else. Do you know how hard I tried to create that same kind of rapport between us? I worked so damn hard and I still never had all of you."

"Zoe, you know that Gillian and I were nothing but friends while we were married. We still are nothing but friends."

Zoe sighed, partly in exasperation. "I'm not talking about fidelity here, Cal. I know you were faithful to me. I know you tried your hardest to be a good husband, and I know you're a great father. I even know you loved me, in your own peculiar way. What I am saying is that, to me, watching Gillian and you together was a constant reminder that you married the wrong woman. Of course I was rude to Gillian. I hated her. She was my worst nightmare. And she was so damn nice. Maybe if she had been meaner I could have been nicer."

"I never knew you felt that way. Why didn't you tell me? We could have worked through that." At her raised eyebrow, he amended, "We could have tried at least."

"Frankly, I didn't see any way we could fix it." She shrugged, "But I should have told you how I felt rather than let it fester like it did. You were so involved with your work and with Emily." She squirmed at the look he gave her. "Okay, so we both were. I just know I couldn't stop feeling inadequate so I backed off. You got frustrated and spent your time trying to read me. I felt like you were judging me, which made me more self-conscious. Finally, I just couldn't live like that anymore. I know I hurt you when I left, and I am sorry for it."

"I'm sorry, too, love. We are a pair."

They sat in their own private reflections for a moment until Zoe asked, "Cal, why did you buy me out from the Lightman Group?"

"Because you were going to move Emily all the way to Chicago."

She shook her head slowly. "Cal, Emily is well past the age where I can make her move. She can choose where she wants to live. It was a bluff," she watched him shift in his seat, "and you knew it. Why did you buy me out?"

Cal stared at the pencil he had picked up and was tapping on his desk. Finally, he looked up. "Because I didn't want Emily to have to choose between us."

"You know she would have chosen you, right? She loves you and her life here. She wouldn't have come to Chicago no matter how much I prettied it up for her."

"I know, and it would have killed you to be away from her like that. I didn't want you to have to go through that."

"Why?"

"Christ, Zoe, do you think I'm a monster?"

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "No. I think you did it because of guilt." When he started to protest, she put her hand up. "Let me finish. You do love me, Cal, and you were faithful while we were married, but you don't love me the same way you love her. Never have. Never will. I know you have always felt bad about that."

"Zoe . . ."

"No, it's okay. I won't regret what we had and have. Emily is worth all the pain we put each other through." She disentangled her legs and sat up correctly in the chair. "I came here because I wanted you to know that Roger and I have been talking again. He understands that I panicked when he proposed. You and I both know we should never have started sleeping together again. God, even Emily was terrified we would try to get back together. Anyway, Roger and I started dating again, and he is slowly on his way to forgiving me. I plan on making a commitment to him if he asks again, and I think he will."

"Emily's not going to like that."

"Then Emily will just have to deal. We can't all be lucky enough to fall in love with someone she loves as well." She realized her tone was a little sharp. She shrugged, "He's a good man, Cal. Maybe not as exciting as you, but that's part of the attraction for me. My just being me is enough for him." She saw her mark hit home, and to her credit she took no pleasure in it. "I just wanted you to know."

"Thanks, love. I hope you'll be happy."

"I will. And I hope that for you, too, Cal. It took awhile, but I can say it now." She hesitated, her face showing traces of the inner debate she was having. "Have you even tried to ask Gillian out?" He hid behind his mask, but she knew him too well. "You're not going to ask her out, are you?"

"It wouldn't work."

"You've always had the Madonna complex with Gillian."

"What?"

"You know – Hemmingway. All the women in his books were either Madonnas or whores. You've always held Gillian up as this paragon of virtue. I bet you think Gillian is too good for you. I think you're worried that somehow you'll taint her so you refuse to take a chance. Wait, does that make me the 'whore' in this scenario?"

Cal stood up. "Zoe, I don't want to talk about this with you. Not trying to throw you out, love, but . . ."

She stood up slowly. "Don't put Gillian on too high a pedestal, Cal. She's got secrets of her own."

"Why are we still talking about this?"

Zoe smiled. "Call it a thank you for letting me stay in D.C. with Em. I'm feeling generous. When Gillian married Alec, she was in love with you."

He couldn't have been more stunned if she had pulled a gun and shot him. "How do you know that?"

"I don't have to be a scientific expert to know when a woman is in love with my husband. Or vice-versa. Don't be stupid, Cal. Gillian is flesh and blood, just like the rest of us. Well, she's not _just_ like the rest of us, but you know what I mean." She gave him a dazzling, relieved smile. "I really planned just to tell you about Roger, but it felt good to clear the air. Bye, love." She blew him a kiss and walked out, revealing Loker standing awkwardly in the hallway. Her heels clicked loudly as she headed toward the lobby.

Cal dropped back in his desk chair and put his head in his hands while he tried to process her statements. He looked up to find Loker still hovering, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

"This had better be bloody good, Loker." His tone would have caused a lesser man to turn and run, and Loker considered doing just that, but he nervously walked into the lion's den.

"Umm, boss, I am really sorry to interrupt and I know you keep telling me to be a team player and I also know you and Dr. Foster have some sort of line you respect about keeping private lives private, but I thought you should know, well, umm –"

"Get there faster, Loker."

"Yeah, okay, right. Sorry. Dr. Foster and I went out to interview the Smith family for the Handleman case. We found them at their daughter's birthday party. Dr. Foster seemed kinda freaked out about it. I mean, she was totally professional and all, but she looked pretty upset, although she tried to hide it, and went right to her office when we got back. I thought you might know what to do about it."

Cal didn't understand. "Why would a party upset her?"

"It was a birthday party." When Cal continued just to look at him, Loker added, "For their daughter."

Cal sat up straighter in his chair. "Bloody hell! What's today? How old is their daughter?"

"Three."

Cal's heart sank as he checked the date on his calendar. He slammed his hand on his desk. "I'm an idiot." His chair flew behind him as he got up and marched from his office. "Loker, put yourself back on the payroll. I think you're finally getting what it means to work here." He left Loker with a relieved smile on his face and stormed down the hall to Foster's office. Now that he knew the problem, and if he weren't such a self-centered bastard he would have put it together a lot earlier, by God he could help.

* * * *

He didn't even knock when he got to her door. He barged in, just in time to see her hang up the phone with shoulders slumped and head bowed. "Foster."

She popped up, startled, and immediately threw on a fake smile. "Hey, Cal. Loker and I had a very productive meeting with the Smiths. Mrs. Smith is not lying about her past. I'm having Loker run a voice diagnostic just to be thorough, but her intonations and tone completely supported her story. We'll have to focus on the other two possibilities to find our client's missing daughter." She began moving papers around on her desk.

"Gillian, I don't want to hear about the bloody case. You've been crying."

"No, I haven't. Well, I got something in my eye, but it's fine now." She couldn't even make eye contact with him.

He stormed around her desk, invading her personal space like he always did, but for the first time in his memory she flinched. For some unknown reason that made him angry, almost as angry as watching her lie. Badly. God, even a Kindergartener would know she was lying. "Don't you do that. Not to me. Never to me. Don't you dare Lie. To. Me."

Her head whipped up, eyes blazing now as she stared him down. "Why not? You lied to me."

"Gillian. . ."

"No. Yesterday I mentioned maybe we could have dinner tonight. I believe your refusal included something about Emily and you having a father-daughter function at school. Imagine my surprise when Emily called me about her date tonight with Rick. She wanted to know whether I thought she should wear her red or blue sweater with her new skirt."

"Which one did you suggest?"

"Cal."

"No. I'm serious. Which one? I hope you told her the blue turtleneck. I'm going to burn that red sweater. It is completely inappropriate for a girl her age. I could throttle her mother."

"I'm not doing this with you, Cal. The point is that you lied to me, and it's not the first time."

He sighed and turned away. "Gillian . . ."

"Do you know how long it's been since you called me 'love' or 'darling'?"

He turned back, unsure he heard her correctly. Where was this question leading? "What? Who notices something like that?"

"It was a simple question, Cal. At some point you started treating me differently. Distantly. Why?"

"You're deflecting, Gillian."

"So are you, Cal."

"I don't want to talk about 'us.' I want to know who was on the phone."

"A client."

"You're lying."

"Yes, I am." She looked at him defiantly.

"Is that how you want to play this? God, Gillian, I know you're hurting. Let me help."

"Oh, now suddenly you want to help? Why, because we're friends?"

"Yes!"

Gillian stood and walked around her desk, grabbing her purse as she bypassed him, evading his reach. "For whatever reason you stopped being friends with me some time ago. I'm going home."

"Foster." "Gillian." But she was gone. He was damned if she would get far without him, though.

* * * *

Gillian turned on the radio only to turn it off again. The quiet was deafening, but right now she couldn't handle a sappy love song. The only thing worse would be a "cry in your beer" breakup song. How had this happened to her? She tried to make all the right decisions. She lived her life by the rules. She still was alone.

As she mulled over the mess that was her life, she noticed too late that she was passing her exit. Somehow she didn't care. Part of her wanted just to keep driving. She had a full tank of gas. Pick a direction and drive until she ran out. Maybe the little town where her car would inevitably stop needed a therapist. She could stay there, lick her wounds while she tried to figure out her life. Wasn't that the way it happened in the romance novels she enjoyed? Young girl – okay, in her case, semi-young . . . fine, middle-aged – leaves everything behind to start over. There is always some misunderstood man with a heart of gold, rough around the edges but solid as they come, ready to fall in love with the right woman. Maybe it could be her. Not that she needed a man, but she needed a life. A life that didn't revolve around work and an empty apartment and almost no friends because very few people were comfortable around her once they knew what she did for a living. Maybe in some small town she could just be normal. And, okay, a man wouldn't hurt. Someone to love her and to let her love him. Someone who wanted to build a life together. Someone who was proud of what she did and who she was. She knew she could stand on her own two feet, but it would be nice to sit down sometimes and let someone else care enough about her to stand up.

For a brief moment the fantasy made her smile, but she knew it was just that. At some point she would turn around and go home to her empty house, to her empty life. Because that was who she was. She followed the rules and played the hand she was dealt. No matter that it was a losing one. She knew intellectually that she had the power to fix whatever was wrong in her life, reshape it, but she just didn't have the strength right now to do more than get out of bed and try to function through the day without falling apart. Gillian signaled before making a U-turn, tears streaming down her face.

By the time she arrived home, she was spent. Just unlocking her door took more energy than she had. She dropped her purse on her table.

"Your locks aren't worth crap."

Her scream caught in her throat as she spun around to see him standing by the couch.

"Seriously, Foster. It took me less than five minutes to pick them. You need a deadbolt, preferably two. How you haven't been robbed yet is a mystery."

"You broke into my house?"

Cal nodded rather matter-of-factly. "Yeah, I did. You need new locks."

"You can bet I'm going to get them. What in the hell were you thinking?"

"I want to know who you were talking to on the phone. You were upset before, but that call sent you over the edge. Who called, Gillian?"

"You've got to be kidding me. You broke into my house!"

"We've already established that, Gill. Who called?"

"No, you have so crossed the line."

He started to walk toward her. "That damned line. See it behind me and wave it goodbye because I am not living with it between us anymore. Who called?"

"I should call the police!"

"Yes, you should. Whoever sold you those locks should be charged with fraud. While we're waiting for the police you can tell me who called." He stopped in front of her, moving his head as she moved to force her to keep eye contact. God, that was annoying. "Who called, Gillian?"

"It was Alec. But you probably already had figured that out, hacked into the phone lines or bugged my office. You ended our friendship to become a stalker?"

"Don't be sarcastic. What did he want?"

"Why do you care?"

"Don't deflect. We're not talking about me or us. Not right now. Right now we're talking about you. What did the idiot want?"

She walked around him, but he followed her closely. She chose the overstuffed chair, trying to force some distance between them. He smiled slightly at the effort, but instead he just moved the coffee table closer to the chair. He sat on its edge and put his hands on the chair arms, effectively pinning her in place. Gillian sighed in defeat. "He's getting married. He just wanted me to know." She tried for a smile, but it was more watery than defiant.

"That was fast."

"Well, when you get your girlfriend pregnant time seems to become a factor."

"You mean that bastard picked today of all days to tell you that?!?"

She was surprised and suspicious. He wouldn't have remembered, would he? "What do you mean?"

Cal's eyes gentled. "You can thank Loker. He put it together and came to me. I know, Gillian."

Her eyes filled with tears. She didn't think she had many left, but her body's capacity to grieve was overwhelming. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes you do. More importantly, you need to. Tell me." Again, she tried to evade his gaze, to no avail. He raised her chin gently, but firmly. "Tell me."

"She's two today." She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "I hope she had a party like the one Loker and I interrupted."

He let go of the chair to stroke her arms, which were wrapped around her middle. Maybe if she held on tightly enough, she wouldn't fall apart. "I bet she did."

"You know, I knew I would be sad, but I hadn't expected it to hit me so hard. I thought I had made peace with it. As the date got closer I just kept willing myself to get out of bed and function for the day, but it got harder and harder. Then today when I saw the children at the party I realized that I don't know what Sophie," she choked on the name. "what she would look like now. I don't think I could pick her from a crowd, and she certainly wouldn't know me. Even if I saw her again, she would have no idea I was once her mother. I would be a stranger to hide from. I would be just . . . another . . . stranger." Her voice broke.

He cradled her face in his hands, holding her gaze and brushing her tears away with his thumbs. "You're right, Gillian." Even though his tone was gentle, she flinched at the harsh truth of his statement. He waited until she looked at him again. "She may not remember your face, but she remembers the love you gave her, hmm?" He bent his head to keep eye contact as she started to pull away. "Sophie came into this world and was given unconditional love and joy, safety and warmth, because of you. Those feelings are her memories of you. She has a strong foundation, a foundation you gave her, to build her future on. You imprinted her soul with love and strength. That is your legacy to her."

With those words, the dam broke. As she began to cry, silent sobs that left her gasping for breath, he scooped her from the chair and took her back to the couch with him. She barely registered the comfort as all her heartache poured forth. "When they took her back, they left me with nothing."

"You have me. You always have me."

* * * *

Gillian did not want to wake up. She was dreaming of Sophie – her warm little body pressed against Gillian when she finished a bottle and fell asleep. From the beginning Gillian would hold her as long as she could during naps, almost as if she knew it wouldn't last. She could feel the warmth in her arms, kept trying to press closer to the dream, fighting the sounds that were drawing her away, back to reality. She flinched, and warm arms tightened around her, then gentled when Cal realized she wasn't falling, but was waking.

"How are you feeling?"

She started to pull away. He held on a little longer, but finally let her push herself upright, and away from him. "I'm okay. What time is it?"

"A little after 3. What woke you?"

"I don't know. Did you get any sleep?"

"A little bit. I dozed off here and there. I'm fine."

"You must be exhausted. Emily! Do you need to call her? She'll be worried sick. You've got to get back home." She started to leave the couch, but he grasped onto her wrist and kept her close.

"She's with her mum. She's fine, Gillian. We're all fine. Don't worry about us. I'm right where I want to be." She didn't know what to make of this statement, especially when she compared it to his distancing behavior of the last few weeks. "Why don't you go get changed? That dress isn't meant for sleeping. I'll whip us up a little snack. You hungry?" She hesitated before nodding sheepishly. He let go of her wrist and shooed her to her room before heading into the kitchen.

After a few minutes of scrounging around, he threw up his hands in defeat. "Gillian, your refrigerator is almost empty. What in the world do you eat? Never mind, don't answer that. Your milk expired weeks ago." He held it away from him as far as he could while throwing it away. He continued searching her fridge for anything edible.

"The chocolate milk is new."

"What am I going to make with chocolate milk?"

"How about cereal? I have Cocoa Puffs. They make the milk chocolately anyway."

He shook his head at the thought of such an atrocity. "How are you not in a diabetic coma?"

"Good genes?" she suggested as she walked back toward the kitchen. Her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and her face scrubbed, she had changed to a pair of loose cream pants and a dark blue sweater that skimmed her hips.

He looked at her for a few moments in silence. "Cal?"

He blinked and smiled at her. "Yeah, good genes." He turned back to the fridge and held up a block of cheese. "How old is this?"

"I don't know. When did you give me that food basket?"

"I gave this to you?" He looked at it and gave it a quick smell. "Bloody good stuff then. Right now I wish you had a dog."

"Why?"

"Cause I'd feed him a piece and see what happened."

She chuckled in mock horror. "Cal!"

He grinned at his victory. "I found four eggs that should be okay. How's a cheese omelet sound?"

She smiled and nodded and grabbed glasses for drinks while he fussed over the stove. He brought over one plate and two forks, setting it between them. He chuckled at the tall glasses of chocolate milk she poured for each of them. "Go ahead and try it."

"After your concerns about the cheese? Chef goes first."

"Together on three?"

She nodded. "1. 2."

"Don't even try it."

"What?" She was the picture of innocence, but he wasn't fooled in the slightest.

"You were thinking about only pretending to take a bite on 3. Don't even try it."

She laughed again because they both knew he was right. "Okay." The omelet tasted great. In comfortable silence, they shared their meal and cleaned the dishes. Cal found some herbal tea tucked away in her pantry, and they took their steaming cups back to the couch.

"Are you feeling better, Gillian?"

She nodded. "A little. Thanks, Cal."

"Don't mention it."

She started to say something, but changed her mind and took a sip of tea instead.

"Something on your mind?"

She took her time replacing her cup on the coffee table, then tucked her legs under her as she turned toward him. "I can't believe you picked my locks."

He grinned. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." He noted with sadness her confusion, trying to match his words with his most recent behavior, but that topic was too weighty for a night like this. She was dealing with too much emotion for him to add to it. It would just be too selfish. He'd change the subject, get them talking about something else. Anything but their relationship.

"Why have you been so distant these past few weeks?" Bam, right between the eyes with that one. He thought about lying, but she deserved better than that.

"That's a topic for another day."

"I'd really like an answer now."

He looked at her. She was so fragile, it was easy to forget how strong she was as well. Would it be too much? "Zoe came to see me today."

"I thought I saw her broomstick in the lobby."

He choked on his sip of tea. "You have to at least let me swallow. She came to tell me she's working things out with Roger."

"Apparently both of our exes are moving on without us."

"Do you want to talk about Alec?"

She slowly picked up her tea for another sip. "He didn't even mention Sophie today. That's why I thought he was calling. Stupidly I thought he finally wanted to talk about Sophie, make sure I was doing okay. I should have known better." He put his hand on her shoulder for comfort. "I know this is selfish of me, but I had hoped he was the reason we couldn't have a child. I mean, they had found plenty wrong with me, but after all the surgeries and procedures they thought I might be able to conceive. Of course, I didn't. They had started talking about testing Alec, but by that point we had been chosen by Sophie's mom so we focused on her." She took a deep breath. "Afterwards, he started using again and we just never . . . The time was never right." She shrugged. "I guess now we know. I'm sorry. I know I'm being selfish."

"Hey," he waited until she looked at him. "That's not selfish. That's honest."

"Speaking of honesty, why have you been so distant with me lately?"

He looked at her appraisingly. "You're not going to let it go, are you?" She shook her head. "I really think we should wait." She shook her head again. "In for a penny I suppose. You asked me a question in your office. You asked why I don't call you 'love' or 'darling' anymore."

She looked down at her cup. "I remember. You used those terms all the time when we were friends and you still use them for everyone else."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand."

"Think about it . . . love."

Her head jerked up when she heard the change in his tone. She saw his face stripped of every mask. It was a face filled with a little fear and a whole lot of love.

He smiled. "I think even Reynolds would catch on if I called you 'love' in the office now." He searched her face and, liking what he saw, he scooted closer to her on the couch. "I can't go back, my love. I can't go back to lines and boundaries and thinking of you only in terms of friendship. I've been dancing around these feelings for too long already. I love you, Gillian Foster, and it's bloody well time I told you that."

"Cal . . ."

"No, you don't have to say anything." He smiled at her as he tucked her back by his side. "You've had a hell of a day. Go back to sleep, and we'll talk later." He used his foot to pull the coffee table closer to the couch and then kicked his feet up. He kissed the top of her head and settled in for the rest of the night.

"I love you too, Cal." Her voice was muffled as she nuzzled her face in his sweater. She couldn't see his smile, but she could feel his body relax as he let out a relieved sigh. Of course he knew that she loved him. He was Cal Lightman; he could read it all over her face. But it felt good to say it. It felt right. Finally. "We could be more comfortable in my bed."

He chuckled as she lifted her face to his. They gazed at each other for a few charged moments – questions asked and answered. They kissed, but it was a kiss that held more promise than passion. As she resettled on his lap he stroked her hair. "I'll tell you one thing, my love. We are going to have one hell of a first date." They both laughed as sleep gradually overtook them.


End file.
